


Westward to More

by spoilerknowsbest



Series: A Song Of Endings And Alternatives [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, F/M, Gendrya - Freeform, GoT spoilers, Kissing, Post-Canon, Post-Finale, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, Post-Season/Series Finale, Sex, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-03-08 10:50:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18893119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoilerknowsbest/pseuds/spoilerknowsbest
Summary: Arya sets off on an adventure to find out what's west of Westeros. Before she gets very far, she finds a stowaway and has to face more than just the world.





	1. Westward To Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> This is set post-finale and draws from the ASOIAF book universe as well, considering they gave Robert's bastards the short end of the stick. I do plan to write more, but it's most likely going to be updated about once a week at this rate.

Making the plans to ship out without Sansa knowing had been no issue. Her sister was busy, and rightfully so. Every so often, Bran would give her that knowing look he always seemed to have, but by then, she had simply become accustomed to it. Bran knew everything, he probably knew how she would die. Best not to ask. She was sure Sansa had plans of Arya leading the guard or being a lady in waiting, something well-meaning but stifling. They understood each other much better these days, but being in the North, being the sister to the Queen? It was going to have consequences. Arya liked her consequences where she wasn't going to ruin things for the people she loved, just for herself.

The air smelled good, with a sting of salt like when she lived on the coast another world away. Being another person. Being nobody. Those were times she remembered not exactly with fondness, but with strength. The things she learned had taken her far. Now on her own boat, she took her sailors to task. She knew quite enough to keep the ranks tidy and allow those that worked for her to not feel as if they were talking to an idiot child when they explained things to her. Davos had been smart in his recommendations, her crew was top shape.

There was only one major problem that came up.

Three days out, the coast a vague blur to the boat's east, there was some kind of ruckus in the early hours. As it was her ship, Arya went to investigate. A group of three men dragged a younger man topside just as she came to meet them. Thick black hair in a disheveled mess, face smudged from a bloody nose, and bright blue eyes she would know anywhere. Of course. This fool of a man was going to get them both killed one day. She inhaled sharply and let out a slow, long sigh. A habit she stole from someone, but who knew where anymore.

"A stowaway," One of the men informed her.

"Toss him overboard. He's got strong arms, he can swim to shore." She could be done of it all that easily. Once she had dreamed about those arms around her, but now that she'd let herself live that dream once, she knew she couldn't keep it. She was a lone wolf, she was an explorer, she was an assassin, and he was a bastard with raised status who should be on dry land looking for a wife and not stowing away on her ship.

"Milady!" Her eyes squinted in irritation at him when he spoke. The men were shrugged off of him for a moment as he went for her. Dropping to his knees at her feet. Three daggers were pulled out, even one by Arya herself. She knew he'd never hurt her. Gendry was many things, but he wasn't the sort of man that would lash out at her. Never her. But the crew needed to see she was serious. Everyone stayed poised, ready for a slip.

"Explain yourself." The command came from her lips as her dagger pressed gently against his throat. The slightest prick sent a trick of red down his pale, dirty neck.

"I was working. I wasn't looking for a handout, I was doing work down there." His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed after speaking, he didn't move away though. His eyes stayed up on hers.

"So you're a sailor? Being named Waters isn't exactly the same as knowing how to work on them." A couple of the crew laughed lightly. At least she knew how to keep up morale. Sailors and seamen were easy to please, much easier than nobles. Which left her guessing what he might be doing here. "You're going back."

"It's all worked out."

"You're going back."

"I can't." She frowned at that, not liking how he kept avoiding explaining anything and just seemed interested in contradicting her command.

"My ship, my rules, Gendry. I don't have time for these games." 

"Then would you let me explain-"

"If you would actually try." They both glared back at each other as she interrupted him. "My ship." A gentle reminder, followed by her sheathing her dagger. The rest of the crew followed suit. "This is not a leisure trip for a green lord. I need you keeping pace with the crew and then you can explain things tonight. Until then, you're at their mercy. You fuck up, you're gone." Arya turned on her heels and left them standing there, giving a nod to her second. The older woman grabbed Gendry by the ear and told the rest of the crew to get back to work.

The rest of the day, Arya perched at the helm. She did as she planned, approving the course, discussion ration stops, tying exquisite knots, and even having a couple of impromptu lessons in navigation and steering. It was never difficult to get a professional to teach your their trade, you just had to know the right words to say. Some loved flattery, like her navigator who also crafted maps lovingly and was just as excited for this chance as she was. Others preferred blunt questioning, like her helmsman, an older gentleman that had too many tales of idiots on ships seeing things in the sea.

Speaking of idiots on ships, Arya did keep a general eye on her stowaway. Gendry seemed to take to tasks well, understanding direction when bluntly given, but hesitant at some of the finer mechanical issues. Not that mopping the deck was a technical issue in the least, and that seemed to be the bulk of his chore this day. She didn't miss how he watched her, he had never been good at being discreet.

When night fell, he sought her out. The crew had dry meats and enough ale for laughter, but not so much to wreck the ship. Arya took her rations at the stern, watching them all from the back, letting someone else worry about where exactly they were going. He found her easily.

"I told them not to feed you. We'll never be rid of you if we do." Gendry hadn't gotten well into her light yet, but his shape was too distinct. His shoulders and arms broad and muscled, his hair falling into the same dark mess.

"I guess now would be the time to tell you I brought my own. Didn't know how long I would have to keep down there."

"Three days wasn't bad. I knew I should have gone down there, but there wasn't much reason." She shrugged as he sat down beside her. Close, but not touching. Good, smart. "You said you would explain."

"Mm. Well. I wasn't much of a knight, even though I played at it for years."

"You weren't," she responded as it was something they both knew. Part of her had believed he could be. After seeing the things knights get to, she truly didn't want him to take it up.

"That wasn't a question. I could protect. I could hit things with a big enough hammer."

"You brought the hammer, didn't you?" Oh, that was good. 

"Left the helmet. I couldn't figure out how to shove it in my things without you seeing it immediately." She laughed softly, not letting the sound carry past them. When she saw the way he grinned, her face turned quickly neutral.

"I would have."

"I know."

"That's a shit explanation. Lords are different from knights."

"I wasn't done. After that meeting with all those lords, your brother, your sister, both taking crowns. Starks ruling everything, even this boat."

"Your point?" She did smile a little. She was proud of her family, and equally scared for them as well. But she had to trust that they knew what they were doing, as they trusted her.

"I'm no lord."

"You were legitimized, Gendry, that's what that means."

"Yes, but there are others."

"Others?"

"Edric."

"Another bastard?"

"A brother."

"You can't just hand lordship over, that's not how it works."

"A group of nobles just picked the new king, I think 'how it works' is a little fucked now, don't you?" She couldn't completely argue with that. "Right. Well, Edric was raised proper, he actually looks and talks like a young lord, he knows all of that. And he was an 'acknowledged bastard' so the old king actually knew who he was and that seemed... Better."

"So you're not just a coward running from responsibility to play pirates and chase after women?"

"I'm not a coward."

"If you weren't a coward, you'd be doing your duty as you were appointed."

"What does that make you then?" Their eyes held in the moonlight. His face was clean now and she could see the hint of dimples on cheeks that would be hairier by the morning. He didn't look like a lord then, just another young man, just the boy she thought she could have loved if she ever could love someone like that. But that was another time, another girl. One who didn't have scars across her body. One who didn't fear waking up blind. One who didn't have his callused blacksmith fingers reaching out to touch her cheek.

"None of this explains why you're here." Her hand caught his, but he only clasped her fingers. She didn't let go.

"I didn't want to be a lord if it meant I wouldn't have you in my life."

"I'm not sleeping with you on this boat." That clearly threw him, so she continued. "I only did that because we could have died."

He stuttered a little but found his words. "Did I say I would bed you here? Well, here wouldn't be that bad, it's not that different-"

"Gendry."

"Arya, I could live without that if it meant I could be around you and let you push me around your boat all day." She gave him a scathing look. "Honest."

"That's not how men work."

"You don't know how I work."

"I do. You'll get bored and want to go to land and stay there, keep me there. Or you'll find someone nicer and prettier who can do lady things like sewing straight. Or you'll get drunk and decide you don't like waiting around and I'll have to kill you." Gendry just stared at her as she spoke, a little surprised, hesitant of what to do to argue with her. After a moment longer, when she started to turn away again, he squeezed her hand. Arya had forgotten he was still holding her hand. It was nice. She stayed.

"If I fuck up that badly, I hope you do kill me."

"I wouldn't be sad. You would deserve it." Every ounce of her skills went into that lie, and she kept her eyes on his, kept them cold. 

"I would." Well, that hurt a little.

"Gendry."

"Mm?" 

"You can stay. For now." She let go of his hand and pushed herself up, walking away quickly. Arya knew what would happen if she didn't, and she wasn't ready to face that just yet.


	2. Westward To The Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya still contemplating tossing Gendry off her ship, but she softens a little to give him a helping hand.

The days carried onward and Arya did not avoid Gendry. She did not walk the other way at his approach when his icy blue eyes were clearly intent on her. She certainly didn't purposefully start taking her meals amongst the rest of the crew, deep within the crowd so she wouldn't be caught on the outskirts with him. And she absolutely did not quickly find topics of conversation with literally any person that wasn't him when she noticed him appearing within the group she may have been near. Or at least no one noticed, but they may have just been too polite to question her behavior.

Though, somehow, she still found herself passing him along the stairs, feeling the brush of his arm against hers, knowing it was him each time because how couldn't she? Gendry always smelled like metal when it was hot, even under the sweat of a long day of work and the salty sea air. It was like the metal of the weapons he made had seeped into his skin. Blacksmithing was a part of him more than being a lord likely ever would be. She could even sense his very presence, how he brooded and stood, not quite tall and proud, but like a man that could carry anything on those broad shoulders. There were times she knew he was near, just lurking, but apparently thought better of approaching her. So maybe someone had noticed then. He seemed not entirely put off by it. Not yet.

It wasn't a palatable tension, but it was one she felt and it ate at the back of her mind. So much of her life was completed, finished, or flat out left. This should be done, too. But then why not kick him off? They'd be stopping at Tarth soon, not far from Storm's End. She could just toss him off there. It would be kinder, less swimming. 

From her perch by the wheel, she checked over the deck as she considered the prospects. He was always easy to spot, especially when they put him to heavier work. The man didn't know how to keep a damn shirt on. The sight of his strong muscles rippling wasn't what concerned her, though. It was the red streaking his skin, blazing hard along his neck. This idiot. Most of these sailors were well seasoned, and here he was getting burnt by the sun.

Without a sound, she slid away and down to the main deck. He didn't seem to notice her approach, too consumed in the act of pulling ropes. When he was clearly done, looking back at his work, she raised her fingers and gave his neck a hard flick. He yelled, reaching back to cover his neck and try to grab her hand at the same time. She was much too quick, of course, but it didn't stop him from turning with annoyance in his eyes.

"What- Oh." Her attention made him hesitate until she flicked him again. The same stinging feeling burned through his skin, leaving him swearing and pulling back from her. "Seven Hells!"

"Follow me."

"Oh, so now we're speaking again?"

"Just do it."

He sighed, rubbing at the red on his skin, but still following. Maybe he would have been an alright soldier, he did take orders well. Arya led him below deck, with a clear mission as she moved about. She found their resident healer and chef tucked in the small kitchen, brewing up something or other in the pots there. It smelled atrocious.

"What's all this?" Gendry asked. Arya had planned to leave well enough alone. 

"It's either dinner or something to settle the stomach. Suppose that could be dinner, too." A man with pale hair cut close and a spotty apron turned to face them. His dark eyes were lively, but his hands were old as if they came from a completely different person. "Oh, yes, our lady not lady leader and the stowaway. What brings you? You usually just take the food, so it must be healing." 

Gendry shrugged and turned to Arya. She stepped further in, waving Gendry back.

"Do you have a salve for when the skin gets burnt by the sun?"

"Aye, got salves for most problems." He turned his back to them again as he ducked down, pulling out a leather bound box. Opening it revealed all sorts of vials and glass containers. Gendry frowned at it, Arya, of course, ignored him.

"Give it."

"Patience. I need something from you first."

"Niclas, this is my ship." 

"And it's a fine ship. But I need something on land in Tarth, but I cannot fetch it myself."

"What is it?"

"Just some supplies, roots, leaves, things like that. I have a list."

"Why can't you get it yourself?" Gendry decided to chime in again.

"Had a bad encounter last time I was in port."

"I don't care. Give your list to the quartermaster and it'll be handled."

"Right, about that..."

"Niclas, does anybody like you?" Arya was clearly done with this exchange.

"Are you saying you don't?" He flashed her a winning smile as he pulled out a small pot of something. Arya was surprised someone like that even had all their teeth still. She snatched the pot and turned, leaving both men in the small kitchen. Niclas seemed like he was about to start talking again when Gendry turned and followed her out. 

\---

She led him then to the small cluster of cabins below deck, past where most of the crew slept to a particular one she opened, then closed quickly behind them.

"Why aren't you in the captain's cabins?" Gendry was clearly confused, looking around the tiny private cabin. There was just one small porthole for a window, but it gave them plenty of light at this time of day.

"It's vulnerable." She locked the door and went to sit on a trunk, legs spread as she smeared some of the salve on her hands. "Sit. Melila stays there, similar height, not that much more noticeable muscle. She'll pass well enough in the dark if someone gets any stupid ideas." A major reason that she had been chosen as quartermaster in fact. The only sailor she'd specifically taken from the Greyjoys. Asha was a wise woman, it hadn't been a difficult deal.

"I thought you liked the crew. You sure act friendly with them." He did as she bid, connecting the previous conversations at this point. Gendry settled his body between her thighs, facing away from her. He had been here before, and not so long again. The heat they had shared came to his mind regularly. The fact wasn't lost on her either, especially as his back radiated from the burn. Her covered hands touched him gingerly at first, almost as if she was afraid now that she was in this position. He visibly relaxed as her palms rested against his skin.

"Liking and trusting are different things. Thought you'd know that by now." He had been betrayed regularly enough himself, but then again, he seemed to accept the Brotherhood back into his good graces without that much of a fight. 

"Do you trust anyone anymore?" His eyes closed, he focused on the way her hands moved over his skin. She was no healer, but it didn't hurt as much. He let his head drop, still listening though, still expecting an answer. Arya was taking her time with it.

"Not many." She trusted him. She knew she still trusted him with her life, but that was dangerous territory.

"Your sister?" 

"Endlessly." Family was family. "Sansa has been through more than she'll ever tell me, and that's her business. But it doesn't matter, she's my sister and I love her. Even when we fought, I loved her. Maybe I didn't trust her back when she was in Joffery's grasp, but she... She's so smart, she thinks about things so differently than I do." Another pause. "She'll be a good queen."

"Your brother?"

"Which one?"

"Is it not the same for both?" Arya shook her head. She got more salve and touched it to his neck careful. Gendry winced, his elbow bumping back into her leg, but she didn't seem bothered. She kept going when he relaxed again, his arm looping loosely around her calf. She didn't seem to mind that either.

"I trust them both, but Jon. Jon, I could fight beside, he helped me with some of my first lessons. He always stood up for me. Jon listens. Not that Bran didn't or doesn't, it was just different. He was my little brother, I had to protect him even though they didn't always let me because I was a girl. Now he knows everything, I suppose, and rules whatever Sansa doesn't."

"Why did you leave them?" Her hands stopped, resting around his shoulders when Gendry spoke. His free hand reached up, fingertips brushing the back of her hand. That seemed to pull her back to him for a moment anyway.

"There's no place for me there, not really. And I want to see what else is out there. I already went east. Maybe I'll go there again one day with a horse and just ride out along the land."

"Your brother and sister are king and queen, you know they can just make you a place." He was on to her. She answered him, sure, but not a satisfying answer.

"Like the last queen made you a lord?" That shut him up. "See? It's not as easy as that. You've never been a lord, I grew up a lady. You don't know what you'd avoiding, I've already lived it well enough. It's not me. It could be you though." Her hands squeezed a little harder than she meant, and he caught her wrist in his hand. Gendry took her hand from his skin and pulled it around. The calluses and scars were hard to see as she spent so much time in the sun still. Where her skin darkened in a lovely way, his simply reddened and freckled. Her hands had killed and he had no idea how much. Still, he placed his lips to the warm skin. She inhaled softly, the heat from his body feeling closer now. He obviously didn't plan to let go, so she rested her other arm around his other shoulder and her chin on his head. Hot metal, fresh out of the kiln. Leather, that was another smell she found in him.

"I don't want to force you into being something you don't want."

"Good."

"What do you want, Arya?"

"I want..." This, was her immediate thought, but she caught herself. She knew he wouldn't understand that, not how she might want. "I want freedom. I want to be able to pick up and go as I please. I want to see everything I can before I die."

"I'm glad you didn't die yet." Arya snorted softly at his words. It seemed silly, plain, but genuine.

"I'm glad you made it to Winterfell finally."

"It was just like you said, only more burnt and full of dead people."

"It's always been full of dead people, they just didn't know it at the time." They were both quiet after that. 

"You've been through something I can't imagine, haven't you?"

"Mm, you don't want to know."

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know."

"Did it occur to you that I don't want you to know?" She felt him stiffen at her words. Maybe they came out harsh, but it was true. Arya couldn't explain all the things she'd seen and done. It had been an existence only understood by existing. When he didn't say anything, she hooked her legs around his torso and gave him a soft pull. It moved her more than him. Even more grown, he still easily outweighed her. In another swift motion, she had pulled her hand from him and slipped around to sit in his lap. They were face to face. His eyes were unfocused at first like he was somewhere far away. Feeling her weight on top of him pulled him back.

"I'm not yours," She told him, their eyes holding. Her still sticky hands brushed down along his chest. The burn was lighter there at least. His arms encircled her waist. He didn't speak, just nodded, his eyes moving from hers only to look down at her lips when she spoke. They didn't last long before their mouths met. Her hands moved up into his hair, needing something to hold on to. There hadn't been others, not really, not like him. Her lips parted, her tongue played with his. This was exactly what she had been thinking about since their last real encounter the day he was found. She remembered his smells, but his taste? That had been new, an experience within itself.

His hands moved up the back of her shirt, wanting to feel skin on skin. Lines of scars ran here and there that his fingertips traced past. Would she ever tell him where they came from? Did she need to? Questions that could be answered another day. He had enough sense to know it would ruin this.

She released a high gasp when his hand moved around, finding her bound breasts beneath her shirt. Fingers moved beneath the fabric, feeling for where it ended. Her nails dug into his neck when he found her nipple. His whole body stiffened. Shit. His neck.

"Gendry!" She stopped immediately and he leaned his face into her shoulder. Well, there went that. Arya wanted to leave, looked toward the door for escape, but he hugged her close while the pained tightness slid from his body. Another beat of the heart, and she felt him sigh into her.

"We're not going to-"

"No."

"Can we stay like this?" 

"It hurts that bad?" She hung her arms around his body, one at his shoulders, the other around his head. Try not to touch the blazing heat that was his neck again.

"No." This time she didn't understand until he rubbed his face against her. Oh. She snorted softly and hugged him again. "Don't tell anyone. They'll all want coddling then."

"I wouldn't dare, Milady."

"Stupid Bull."


	3. Southward To Tarth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Landing in Tarth, Arya has to access their situation.

 "You're sure we should stop off in Tarth?" Melila asked Arya as the island appeared in the distance. They'd be there before nightfall at this rate. She stood rigged, her back rod straight and her shoulders deeply sloped. Her mousy brown hair was long but always wrapped around her head in a rough looking braid. It was less stylish and more efficient. If Arya ever bothered growing her hair long again, it wasn't a bad option. The things you could do with a long braid of hair were numerous.

"What do you mean?" Arya had her attention on the other woman as they stood side by side. She kept up a practiced casual posture, something that left her looking bored as opposed to her companion's trained stance. Sure, she liked that Melila didn't take nonsense and could take a drunk sailor down in short work, but it didn't mean she completely trusted her either. Why reveal all your cards?

"The smallfolk say it's been ruined by the wars. Port's still there, but they say it's not near what it was."

"Ruined means a lot. Could be they're down on resources, could be they'll swim out and jump the ship. What kind of ruined did it sound like from these people?" It didn't surprise Arya, Cersei had stretched her grip far and many had done just as much cruelty without actually serving that tyrant queen. 

"Sounded like we could still get in, get what we need, but there might be high prices, maybe fighting. Doubt your people have it all fixed and proper so fast. I can get what we need with a couple strong backs."

"Right. I have a list from our healer-"

"Niclas? No, I'm not doing that fool any favors. It's not right cooking potions and soup in the same pots."

"It's not smart, that's for certain."

"I think Lord Seaworth was just trying to get rid of him and shoved him off on you. Would've done the same thing myself."

"Just get what we need, I'll deal with his list."

"Mark my word, stick to the dry meat."

* * *

When they docked, a handful of the crew were set to watch the ship while group of others went to land. Arya had given Melila some funds before parting ways in search of the apothecary, Gendry somehow right on her heels. She didn't acknowledge him at first but allowed him to simply be there. He was armed as well, a sword on his belt and hammer on his back. Overkill, Arya suspected, but the man sure loved that hammer.

The waters had been beautifully blue, but the island itself smelled of burnt wood and decay. The stone structures remained, and many seemed if not manned, then occupied. Every so often, Arya caught the flash of a golden cloak turned brown and dingy. Stragglers turned rebels most likely. Bran's people would have a time of it clearing them out eventually, but Tarth wasn't close enough to be a problem to him yet. Arya tried to catch her surroundings closely, hoping he'd see things through her with whatever strange magic had attached itself to her younger brother.

"This doesn't seem safe," Gendry spoke softly, standing too close. His breathing came too loudly to let her listen.

"If you're going to be this loud, you can just stay on the boat."

"Like I'd let you come out on your own."

She glared daggers at him for that line. Maybe she had gone too soft on him since she helped with his burn. They had sat curled up in each other for so long, she had almost dozed off. Being with him felt much safer than being alone, it was someone to watch her back, to cover when she couldn't. The problem with that was it led to this. You let your guard down, you let him take an inch, then suddenly you're "Milady" and he's standing in front of you. So she quickened her pace. He did the same.

"What's the problem?"

"I still don't think you understand this."

"You're picking up Niclas's items."

"No. This." She made a hand motion between the two of them. That seemed to help.

"No, I do-"

"If you did, you wouldn't think you need to chase after me whenever I go off the boat."

"This is the first time you went off the boat, I wouldn't call it every time."

"Don't get smart, you won't be able to keep up with yourself."

"Hey!" Oh, that one had struck. "I'm doing you a favor."

"Never asked you to join me. In fact, I never asked you on my boat."

"Why are we fighting?" He stopped walking, but she kept on another yard, clearing more distance between them before turning.

"Gendry, do you know where we are?"

"Tarth."

"And who is Tarth beholden to?" She didn't have to wait long before it dawned on him. "You said this brother you barely know can handle things though."

"He's one boy, Ar-" He stopped, hesitating. "Arry." She paused, her head tilted. He actually thought to not use her name while they have the heavily bannered Stark ship in port. Probably a good idea.

"Yes, well, and so is the king." Loud laughter interrupted them from ahead. They both turned to see a pair of men in unclean armor heading their way. One of them had red hair, pock marks on his cheeks. His friend's head was shaved close with a scar marking most of the length of his scalp. The way they walked, they were sober, but maybe not intentionally. They separated, going around on either side of Arya. Gendry closed in on her, they both kept the men in their line of sight.

"What's this? Lover's quarrel?"

"Sounds like they're talking about the wolf king."

"That it does."

"What of it?" Arya asked, her hand hovering on her weapon. She didn't like the way they circled like they would run this fight. Center wasn't the best position, but when you could flow like water and feared nothing, no position was truly that inferior.

"You let your woman do the talk?" They laughed again. The redhead facing her pulled his sword. "Maybe we'll cut her up a little for you, show her how to listen."

"You won't touch her." Gendry had his sword out now as well. 

"Bet they're from that wolf ship." As the other man started armed himself, Arya simply charged. She was tired of the banter, these were a pair of idiots that didn't run home to protect their queen and now they would be just as dead regardless. Cowards.

Her charge surprised the man before her. He swiped with his sword, but she ducked out of the way at the last minute. Needle in hand, she slapped her blade into his sword arm. Down the blade went in a howl of pain. Arya let him keep the arm, he should be pleased with that much. Another blow and he was physically down. Before he could yell in protest, she simply sliced her blade along his throat, creating a bright red seam. Blood sputtered from his choking lips, spraying her boots as she rested a foot on his chest. Stay down, she thought at him. A man like that didn't deserve her respect. When his heart finally stopped, she looked up and saw both Gendry and the other supposed warrior just staring at her.

The minute she moved, the redheaded man ran. Arya tried to throw a dagger in his back, but he turned sooner than she expected. Should have seen the door. Gendry looked back, then to Arya again. He opened his mouth several times to try to talk but wasn't sure what to ask first. Somehow he managed to get out. "You do all that, but you missed him with the dagger?"

"Shut up, Bull. Cowards are quick. He's getting reinforcements." Arya grabbed his sleeve and yanked as she moved. First, grab the dagger, which was just embarrassing. She didn't run, but jogged, taking him between buildings as she followed the other man's path. It wasn't hard, he was loud, his armor clanking when he moved his arms. Armor for taking swords from other men in armor with swords, not daggers or hammers. Gendry followed, staying close as he could without crowding her. They reached a wall, and he grabbed her before she could jump for it. Arya started to protest, but he didn't stop her as much as lift her before she had to put the energy into the jump. Okay, fine, she could live with that. She offered her hand down to him once she was up, and he took it with a smile. Part of her liked this camaraderie, but a louder voice was screaming a warning. Don't get too comfortable. Don't open up too much.

They carried onward until they spotted him down another street. He was frantically talking, pointing back down where he had come from. Arya pulled out her dagger again before Gendry touched her hand. She paused and looked as he pointed. A group of men in leathers with clear yellow and black heraldry came from nowhere and seized the men. After a small tussle, they subdued them. Arya wasn't impressed as much as she was surprised.

"Baratheon men?" Gendry nodded at her words. Had to be. "This bastard brother works fast."

"It sounded like they'd been trying to plant people all over when they came to me."

"They came to you?"

"Once it got around about the whole appointment business. I told you. I wanted to get out of the way, him and his people, they know what they're doing."

Arya didn't answer but went back to watching. They led the former soldiers off while one man remained to check over the area for stragglers. This worked as well as anything.

"Oy, stag!" She yelled out, her accent changed so drastically that Gendry literally stepped back from her. The Baratheon man looked up at her words, not noticing Gendry as she approached. "You got a potion man in town? We need some herbs, healer's gonna be pissed if I fuck up again." She flashed a bright smile, throwing back to the easiest manipulation: being dumb and friendly.

"Uh, of course. Old Bort down south. Overcharges, make sure you bargain."

"Yeah? You're a good one." She waved him off and turned back around. Her false smile slipped away and she wiggled her nose, rubbing her face. It hurt to smile so hard. Gendry laughed and tucked an arm around her shoulders when she was close enough.

"You talk to soldiers like that often?"

"You see how he held himself? That's no soldier, he just knows something about carrying swords without dropping them. House Tarth isn't going to have soldiers, not real ones. Not anymore." She didn't shrug him off, instead letting her fingers brush around and hold his wrist for just a moment. They walked down a tight alley together like that until they got to the wall again. This time he knelt and offered her a boost instead of a full lift. This she liked more.

"Who trained you like that?" He asked as he landed on the other side with her.

"Nobody."

"That's not true. You said you had a teacher before."

"Before I met you, I did. A dancing teaching."

"No, I've seen you fight before. You fought like a cat like you wanted to live and you'd take down anything that stopped you. Moved like nothing else, like water, that's certain, but you fight different now."

She didn't respond, but she didn't reinstate their touching from before either. Arya wasn't sure where he was going with this and she needed to be free to escape if she had to do so. But she looked back, let him know she heard, gave a shrug.

"Did they hurt you?" She made an irritated face back at him, more akin to the Arya he knew back when he said something stupid. "That's not an answer."

"Did your master hurt you when you were learning?"

"So, like an apprentice? A foster?"

"If that's what you want to call it. I learned many things there."

"How to fight."

"Different things."

"How to kill."

"Did you always talk this much?"

"I didn't have to fill in all the holes you left back then."

"You never knew everything."

"Holes weren't nearly as big back then though, Milady." She stopped when he called her that and turned on him, her hand catching him by the throat before he could pull back.

"What if they did teach me to kill? Does that frighten you? You watched me kill that man without pity. I could do the same thing to you, right now. No one would know. No one would care. You'd be another body left underfoot." The entire speech, her dark brown eyes stayed on his. He didn't blink, didn't look away from her. His eyes were as cool as the clouds in the sky, and she wondered how hard she would have to push to see the storm he could bring.

"I've looked back into the eyes of the dead and kept fighting. I'm not stupid enough to think you can't. You could have done it years ago, but you didn't." He didn't push her back or move her hand from his throat. Gendry made it clear to her he never feared for his life.

"You're a fool." She dropped her hand and walked away. He followed as she assumed he would.

* * *

Nothing else troubled them during their time ashore, but before they reached the boat with the requested items, Arya grabbed Gendry and pulled him back between buildings. In the growing shadows of the street, she pushed him back against a wall. At least that surprised him. The way his eyes hungrily dipped to her mouth, she was sure he expected something else.

"I don't know what you expect of me," she told him quietly. "But this is your chance. You've had me, you've saved me before, you've done everything and anything you might think you should."

"Why are you always trying to get rid of me? I really offend you that much?" He still seemed amused about this moment, but she wasn't smiling.

"You could have your chance here. You could do something, help people. You lived it, you know what they need."

"You saw those men, it's handled."

"And you don't want to be the one handling it?"

"It's not the most important thing to me right now, no."

"People need someone to look up to."

"They don't need more bastards making promises. They need people who know what they're going. I told you, he knows what he's doing."

Arya sighed and turned away from him again before Gendry caught her wrist. She pulled it from him, but he caught it again, moving closer. Each time she slipped from his reach with spritely ease. Each time he pressed closer in until he was only inches from her, an arm on either side of her head and a hard wall at her back.

"Gendry." Her tone housed a warning.

"Don't talk to me about what I do or don't want again until you can look me in the eyes and tell me that you want me gone for good. If you can do that, I'll go, right now. Don't even have to get things off the ship."

They held eye contact for what felt like hours. Maybe she had finally struck a nerve with him. That was what she had wanted, after all. Arya wanted to do as he dared her to do. She wanted to send him on his way, but the more she looked at him, the harder it was to say. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. 

Gendry took that for acceptance as he leaned in and kissed her lips. Body pinned between this man of iron and mortar and a wall made of things she couldn't imagine being nearly as strong nor as foolhardy, she simply melted. She let herself have this, let it happen. Arya couldn't feel the roughness of his hands through her leathers, but there was still the heat. It felt scorching as their tongues met. They were panting when he stopped. Gendry rested his forehead against hers, his eyes staying with hers. He was waiting for something.

So she kissed him again, more gently, softly, letting her lips linger on his as she pulled the hilt of her sword from its sheath and punched him in the stomach with it. Arya could see the exact moment he understood her betrayal in his eyes before he doubled over. She kicked his feet from beneath him and landed her knee into his stomach once he was on the ground.

"Stay here. Be with your brother. You're chasing stories from dead men and septas." With that, she stood and walked back to the ship. Arya knew he wouldn't be down long, she knew how much her blows could hurt, and most of all she knew how strong he was. But she heard nothing behind her as she left him. She never looked, she didn't dare. One look in his eyes as she downed him was enough. At that moment, she felt the storm coming, and she wasn't ready to face it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise there's another chapter coming because I know this ends cruelly. If you feel like my depiction of violence could use the big Violence tag, let me know. I'll toss it up.


	4. Westward to Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry returns to the boat and has to mull over some things.

Gendry wasn't that badly hurt. Certainly, there'd be bruising, soreness, but that was nothing new. He's been beaten worse, nearly thought he would die, even closed his eyes and didn't expect to wake up in his past. What really hurt was how she kissed him first. It didn't soften the blow if anything it made it more confusing. He knew she didn't want to be a lady, didn't plan to be one, and that was fine. It didn't suit her, she was always wild as long as he knew her and longer he expected from how the Northerners told it.

Leaving him on the ground and telling him to stay was not entirely a surprise, but it was a bruise to the ego. Okay, so she wanted him to be better, to have better, what did that even mean? He was no lord, no matter what anyone tried to tell him. He was a blacksmith if he was anything, and that he could do anywhere. Why not jump her ship? She wouldn't kick him off, he had been that confident at least. After this last encounter though, his confidence was starting to wane.

He looked about and saw she was out of sight, so Gendry pushed himself up and off the ground. He brushed dirt and mud from his clothing, more a habit, an attempt at civility than a real commitment to cleanliness. Usually, he dressed to be comfortable, to work, to not stand out, and times like these it was a good thing. His broad frame was already easy to pick out in a crowd, so he hunched as he started to move, the satchel of whatever was on that healer's list under his arm. She hadn't taken it, so either she expected him to still follow, or she simply let something trivial slip her mind. Most of those noble bred types tended to forget little things. As much as she wasn't a lady, she was bred for it all the same.

The ship hadn't left, so he boarded without much question. No order for his head? A good sign. There was no evidence of Arya on deck, and frankly, he didn't know if he wanted to pursue her yet. Instead, Gendry went down to the small kitchen to drop off the satchel.

Niclas had his face leaning into the steam of a pot of, well, something. Gendry dropped the bag on the counter and turned to leave.

"No Lady Stark?"

"Don't call her that." She might slit your throat. That image would stay with him much like watching her hitting the bull's eye on almost every arrow and toss she made during her training sessions.

"Aye, well, still, she made the promise, I thought she'd come."

"No."

"Why not?"

"She's... I don't know her business." He couldn't even guess what she was doing, but she was sure that she was focused and not thinking about him.

"Thought you were her man."

"I'm not." Arya had made that clear.

"My mistake."

"It is."

"You think she's looking?" The question made Gendry clench his fist and almost reach back for his hammer. Too close of quarters for that realistically, but how satisfying would it be? But no, breath, calm down.

"I can really see why no one likes you."

"Mm, you've been talking to the quartermaster. Sit." Niclas pulled a stool out of seemingly nowhere. Gendry had nothing better to do, had no good argument, so he sat. "You're breathing is off. Blow to the stomach?"

"My breathing isn't off." Was it? It just seemed simpler to be contrary to the man. Niclas didn't seem much his senior, a clean-shaven face showed few signs of aging. Only his hands looked old, and Gendry knew perfectly well how a craft could affect the body.

"You're bruised, I would guess..." Niclas turned and prodded the exact spot where Arya had struck. Gendry twitched back from the touch. "There." 

"Got jumped on shore."

"They missed your face. And your load. And the hammer. I might not be a maester, but I know a few things, Lord Baratheon."

"Don't call me that." He frowned, the title just made him think of her command. 

"Lord Stowaway."

"Gendry."

"Gendry. So why did you sneak on the ship?"

"That's not your business."

"I'm just asking a friendly question." A friendly question he followed up with drinking from a bottle then handing it over to Gendry. He took it, sniffed it, and drank once he was content that there was nothing but wine within.

"A friendly question. Fine, why not? I was following your captain."

"Aye, that's obvious. You're always following her. But why? What did you think was going to happen?"

"What do you mean? I just wanted to be with her. I'm not meant for being a lord or whatever else they would have me do."

"So you decided to chase after a woman instead of taking up the job set out for you?"

Gendry didn't answer as he processed the question. Another swig of wine and he leaned back against the counter.

"Speechless? I know, I have that effect on people. But truly, what were you doing before?"

"I was a blacksmith's apprentice. They were sending me to join the crows when everything broke out. She was with us on the way there."

"Join the crows for what?"

"Wouldn't sell my helmet to a lord." He had his own suspicions at this point, but that's what he had known it to be.

"You were a blacksmith's apprentice that wouldn't sell a helmet."

"It was mine. I made it for me."

"Can I see it?"

"No." He didn't want to go into why he didn't have it or where it might be. There was no reason he needed to, and he wasn't nearly deep enough in his cups to start blabbering that much.

"That's not very nice, we're friends now."

"We're not friends because we're drinking together."

"So you say. Why not go to the wall then if that's where you were heading?"

"Didn't work out that way. Been to the Wall still. I don't want to go back there if I can help it."

They were both quiet for a moment. Gendry didn't know if Niclas had experienced any of the fights with the dead, but it wouldn't surprise him. Not with how the other man took the bottle back for his own long gulp. 

"But you say she was with you when you were headed to the Wall before?"

"Mm, I looked out for her. Not that she needed much help. She could always fight as long as I've known her. Easy to get going back then, too. Things don't... Things don't affect her as much as they used to do."

"You sure? Might just hide it better. You know everything she went through since then?" Gendry shrugged, taking in the man's point. He had considered it before, he didn't understand what this other training was that she had undergone, but obviously she had been through something big. Maybe she had learned to hide her feelings like she hid her tells when fighting. Maybe she was even hiding them from herself, that wasn't the strangest thought. 

"You know what I think? Give her time. Most women get bored and they get lonely." Niclas gave him a wink and Gendry frowned. He didn't like Niclas thinking about Arya being lonely, not in the least. "Truly, you probably keep following her because that's the main thing you know to do, besides smithing. You think you like her, you think you want her, but you only chase her because you don't know what else to do."

"That's not it." Gendry stood, letting the stool scoot back under the counter partway and snatched the bottle back. "I know how I feel. And I know how she feels." He knows how he hopes she feels. The way she touches him in those stolen moments, the soft touch of her lips, she had to feel like he did.

"Aye, then go after your woman." Niclas made a grab for his bottle, but Gendry left with it instead.

* * *

After leaving Niclas, Gendry went to sit on deck with his half a bottle of wine. The ship ran on a skeleton crew at night, they had left dock not so long ago, but it was still a distant, murky bump on the horizon. He kept out of the way, knowing where people would most likely need to go at this point and making a clear path to avoid them. His clunky footsteps led him to the back of the boat where he leaning his back against the railing and watched the stars as he nursed his bottle.

A door creaked somewhere, but he heard no footsteps. He didn't even see a shadow until she was upon him. Arya didn't speak, just sitting beside him, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. Maybe she was lonely after all. Gendry didn't look at her, he didn't have to. The posture, the way her body touched his just at certain points, he didn't question that it was her.

"I didn't stay."

"I noticed."

Another long pause between them. He offered her the bottle, which she took and drank down more than a gulp. Okay, so that surprised him, too.

"I know you don't want me here."

She didn't answer him.

"I know you think... Fuck, I don't bloody know what you think I intend to do. I know you won't marry me, I know you don't want to stay in Westeros. I'm not lying to you when I say that I want to be with you still."

"I know." Her voice was soft. He dared a glance, her eyes seemed sad.

"I'm not trying to run from being something else. I don't know how to be a lord, I told you that. You told me you aren't a lady, and I'm telling you, I'm no lord."

Arya nodded at his words, she didn't look at him though. Her eyes were trained off in the distance like she was somewhere else.

"What do you want from me?" Gendry asked.

"I want you to be happy. I want you to be safe. You won't be those things here." She finally looked at him. It was clear in the moonlight that she had been upset earlier and simply wanted to ignore that fact. It was hard for him to let go.

"Why do you say that?"

"Do you like sailing?"

"I don't hate it."

"Do you know anything about navigating? Reading the stars? The weather?"

"No, they don't exactly specialize in that sort of teaching when you're training blacksmiths."

She snorted softly at that, at least he could still make her laugh.

"What do you want from me?"

"I just want to be here with you. Even if you don't need me, I like being near you. You're trouble, you know. You need someone like me to watch your back."

She shook her head. "I haven't had that in a long time, why do you think I need it?"

"I told you, even if you don't. Even if you want to send me back to the ship and have me sit here and do nothing. I just like being around you. You make me feel... I don't know."

"Mad? Like your heart moves too quickly or your body gets too warm?"

"That sounds right."

"You know what else does that?"

"What?"

"Poison."

Gendry looked at the bottle of wine and then back at her before taking it in his hand and drinking the rest of the contents. "If you're going to poison me, I can't make it too easy. I might stay gone if you do that."

"Why did you come back?"

"We're talking in circles."

"If being near me was all you wanted, you would just work on the ship and not keep after me."

He didn't answer, just looked off, tilting his head as he thought about it.

"I didn't ask you to follow me on land. I didn't ask you anything."

"You don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't ask anything of me. You asked me to work, but I didn't expect a free ride on your boat and that wasn't really for you. You don't ask much of anyone but to do what you brought them on to do."

"So?"

"Aren't you lonely?"

"No." 

"Liar."

She frowned at his response. "You're lonely and just want me to feel the same."

"I am." Her head snapped toward him. "I am, I can say it. I don't have anything but myself and my hammer. If I go back to land, I can have land, but it's not mine. It's the Baratheons or whoever had it last. What would I do with land anyway?"

"Run it. You learn."

"You know how?"

"I could learn if I wanted. I learned about ships."

"Elric was fostered off, he knows things like that."

"You really trust him?"

"As much as I can trust someone I barely know."

"Gendry."

"Mm?"

"Why did you come back?"

"Because you haven't shoved me off the boat yet."

She lifted her arm swiftly as if she was going to shove him backward, and he ducked away. Arya tried to kick him, but he rolled out of the way. Another punch, a kick, and he kept just avoiding the blows. Was she going at her full skill? Gendry would have doubted it if he hadn't been so busy trying to not get hit. He wouldn't give her any back, not one. How could he? She managed to get him back against the railing. She pressed near, but this time he placed a hand over her mouth.

"Don't kiss me before you shove me away again." She stilled, her eyes looking up to his. There was stillness between them again. When she seemed to be done fighting, he let his hand drift down to her neck. He could feel scars that he had barely seen. His thumb rubbed gently against her throat as he wondered about what felt like a nick there. Arya didn't move, just waited. Her fingers curled into his belt, holding them close. Gendry loved that, when he actually felt like she wanted him.

"Can you promise me that?" Gently, his fingers moved up to her hair, brushing along her jawline. Short hair suited her. He felt more than heard her sigh as she leaned just so into his palm.

"What if the only time I want to push you away is when you kiss me?"

"Maybe we shouldn't kiss then."

She laughed mockingly. Even that lit up her face. "Right."

"Oh?" He smiled down at her. "Would you shove me in for trying?"

"We'll see." 

She certainly didn't. Gendry cupped her face as he kissed her. His lips started softly, brushing against hers as she kissed him back. When he deepened it, letting his tongue dip deeper, she pulled him nearer by his belt. Her other hand lower, drawing her nails up along his thigh, then tugging at his shirt to find his skin. The hand on his belt clutched tighter, her knuckles pressed against his stomach.

"If not my lady, what else can you be?" He muttered against her lips.

"We'll figure something out," she responded in a breath before nipping at his lower lip and initiating the kiss once more.


	5. Westward To Her Cabin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussions of the future.

Gendry didn't always understand Arya, but at that moment, he thought that he did. That was until she bit his lip again, harder this time before she pulled away. He made a low growl as he rubbed his mouth and tried to adjust himself, feeling oddly exposed now even though he was fully clothed still. She had only managed to hike his shirt up, and frankly, it wasn't as if the entire ship hadn't seen that before. It was cold now with her stepping away, but with the appearance of Melila he had a hunch why she had stopped. He was glad it was dark and the women wouldn't see the blush creeping from his neck to his ears.

"Captain, our stores are good, but we should stop off in Tyrosh to restock before the Stepstones, maybe trade out some of our sailors. Might be time to drop Niclas for a real healer."

"He seems alright to me," Gendry commented. Both Arya and Melila gave him a look as if they hadn't thought he should speak. "Right, I'll just fuck off then." He took up his bottle, mostly empty at this point and walked toward the front of the ship. Not so far he couldn't hear, but enough that he wasn't nearly as noticeable.

"He's not a problem yet, but I know you don't like him so if you find me an alternative, I'll consider it. I don't want us to load up with Tyroshi sailors. They're talented, but they're cocky."

"So's Niclas."

"As you've said, but we've talked enough about that."

"Fine. But unless you plan on playing ambassador to the east, I'd advice we change out sails soon. Tonight might be good." He hadn't even considered that. The news would travel quickly and the Unsullied had probably made a straight dash back across the sea while they treaded their way south. Westeros was ruled by Starks in both seats, it didn't matter that Arya was her own person.

"They caused more trouble than we needed in Tarth, so you might be right. Neutral banners?"

"That's usually how Greyjoys do it unless we're reaving."

"We're not reaving." Gendry heard a coolness in Arya's tone at that. Something would never change, she would still stand for the little people.

"Didn't say we were. House colors cause trouble, I was agreeing with you."

"Mm. We had to talk about this now?" He wondered if Arya looked his way when she said that, but he didn't look himself. He simply shook his head, rolling the neck of the bottle between his fingers as he leaned against the railing and away from the women.

"I didn't realize you were... Busy." There came that blush again, he could feel it hot on his chest even.

"I wasn't."

"You were locked up since you came back on board. I had been planning to speak to you once you came up."

"Right. You have. Anything else?"

"Tell your boy he needs to work on his eavesdropping."

"He's not my boy."

"Mhmm."

"I'm not her boy," he again spoke, considering he was noticed. Not like he was really trying to hide, but he thought he had at least been a little discrete. Apparently, he thought wrong.

"Shut. Up." Arya spat the words at him like they were hefty and might hit his head. He smiled but didn't laugh. 

"I really do not care about whatever strange game you two play, but as long as it doesn't hurt our schedule, you do as you like." And with that, she left. Melila's boots barely made a sound as she left them, Gendry watching her go instead of looking back to Arya. He didn't pretend to understand people, but he could at least tell that one was more serious than most he had known.

The pair of them didn't speak at first, but he turned to face her once more. The moonlight slipped over her, showing her long face in a surprising relief. The shadows left her looking like chiseled stone, like the statues down in that crypt below Winterfell. What a strange place to have beneath your feet for your entire childhood. 

"Arya..." She didn't look at first, her mind clearly somewhere else. He stepped closer and felt her hand against his chest. She shook her head, letting her fingers close, grasping the fabric of his shirt to tug him gently. When he reached for her, she turned and walked off before looking back at him. Waiting. When he pursued her, reaching out again, she did the same thing. He was catching on now, so he simply kept following her all the way to her small room. Once he entered, she closed and barred the door. 

The first time they slept together, Arya took the lead and he could tell that was her intention once more. The way she shoved him back against the door, sealing her lips against his while her hands went for his belt. She had it unfastened quickly. Her hands were deft as she pushed off each piece of clothing, wanting him bare, wanting access to him. Gendry did his best to keep up, as he found himself doing regularly with her.

The women he had been with before, and no, there hadn't been many, they'd been soft in so many ways, eager to please him, to keep him happy. To keep him, perhaps. He might not be the smartest man in Westeros, but he knew what life would be like for some of those women and he did what he could for them while he was able. Gendry tried, he always tried. Arya was different though, in so many ways. He didn't know why, maybe because she was high born and had different expectations of people or of herself. Maybe it was that he couldn't imagine her genuinely needing him even the slightest bit now. Back then, sure, back when she was like a scrappy stray cat who would fight anyone. He only saw that girl in slips and moments, like when she told him to shut up, when she called him Bull. 

There was little light in the small room, but with their clothes on the ground, it wasn't necessary. Arya halfway climbed up his body, she would never be a tall women, but that wouldn't have suited her anyway. Gendry wrapped her legs around his waist and pushed them off from the door. They fell into her bed where he caught her lips in his again. He knew that she liked to take charge, liked to lead, but he'd be damned if he'd let her do it again so soon.

One hand caught her wrists, holding them over her head as he let his lips roam lower. First along her neck, tasting her sweat, nipping at what felt like old scars. She struggled at first, caught at him with her legs to try to turn him, but much of the demand left her as he continued. It was replaced by soft gasps, that amazing throaty sound she made when she bit her lip, trying not to call out. Part of him wondered if she was trying to be discrete or if she didn't want him to know she enjoyed this. Mostly he didn't care for the reason, he just knew that every sound she made only worked him up more. His hand had released hers and moved freely by the time he reached her breasts, and she certainly didn't stop him. He glanced up to see her half-lidded eyes on him in the dim light as he let his mouth go lower. Her hands gripped his head after several agonizingly amazing licks and pulled him back up to her.

Arya's tongue played against his between every thrust and moan. Her ankles pressed into his ass, urging him to go faster. The pair of them were drenched with sweat and out of breath long before they were even done. A flash of ecstasy between them and the pair unjoined with a satisfied groan. They simply laid in general silence, catching their breath and basking in the cool air they could finally feel so keenly.

"All boys from King's Landing do that?" She almost sounded amused and frankly, he took that as a compliment.

"I learned a few things on the road myself," Gendry laughed. "I thought I should bring out my best if this is the last time."

"Why do you think it's the last time?"

"You haven't given me many clear answers, so as far as I see it? Every time may well be the last time."

"Mmm." Arya sighed, shifted to face him in the bed. He could feel her looking at him, sending a shiver down his spine. It didn't matter how well they could see each other, she could always see him.

"I don't understand. I want to act like I do so you don't think I'm some fool chasing you, but I don't know how to do that."

"The same way you make any other woman happy. You lie."

"You're not any other woman. You're-"

"Don't say it." She put her hand over his mouth. He kissed her palm and moved it gently. It rested on his neck where her fingers brushed lightly over the stubble. He wondered if she preferred him hairy or clean shaven. 

"You're you." That got a small smile from her.

"I'm me. Even if I'm nobody, I'm still me." His own smile shifted, he was still trying to understand her words. "Gendry. Bull, will you remember me?"

"You're hard to forget." The question sounded almost silly to him, but Arya wasn't the type to just ask a silly question. 

"You'd be surprised just how easily I can make myself forgettable." Gendry wasn't sure how to respond to that, so instead, he moved his arm around her and tucked her to his chest. She didn't resist, she even seemed to relax into him with a sigh. 

"Arya, I don't know what to do with you." 

"Do this. Keep doing this." He gave her a small squeeze, happy to do as asked. His fingers moved softly up and down her back. He couldn't comprehend everything she'd dealt with, he knew that. But if he could give her this, if he could do this for her? That meant a lot to him.

"Will it always work?"

"I don't know." Her cheek rubbed against his skin. "I don't want to promise that it will."

"I don't think either of us should make promises we won't keep."

"No." They were both quiet for a moment, maybe considering how difficult that might actually be. Finally, Arya spoke again. "I want to keep you like this for now."

"When will you change your mind?" He asked her quietly, giving their night a touch of sadness that often trailed their journey.

"I'll let you know." He couldn't tell that she closed her eyes, but when her breathing slowed, he knew she must have drifted to sleep. Maybe she would let him stay. Maybe they could just keep being like this for a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm hoping to revisit this story if not this pairing again in the near future. This just seemed like a nice way to settle on this story.


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